


Running away is what he knows best.

by LeannieBananie



Series: A Madness Made for Two [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendzone, Recreational Drug Use, Running Away, Slow Dancing, Spoilers, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeannieBananie/pseuds/LeannieBananie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hancock doesn't know what Jo sees in him and he doesn't know what to do about his feelings for her. So friend-zoning her is a legitimate response right? Jo just wants to dance with him and kiss him, but she's getting fed up with him pushing her away and she doesn't know how much longer she can wait around for him to figure out how to use his words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running away is what he knows best.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be cute and fluffy and then it went all angsty on me, but I think I'm okay with it. Also, sorry if Hancock seems OOC, I'm still getting a feel for him.
> 
> To me he's not inherently good, but is more of an eye for an eye kind of ghoul. Yes, he is very self assured and confident, but he's also self-conscious. He makes a comment when you romance him about not expecting you to want to wake up to a mug like his everyday. So I can totally see him kind of freaking out when someone has feelings for him, how could anyone care for a chem-loving ghoul like him?
> 
> So, I failed my first approval convo with him, where he talks about having impure thoughts. ;) You can bet your sweet ass I reloaded my last save, popped a grape mentat and got his approval, but when you fail he talks about friends being important or something like that, which is where that bit comes from.
> 
> Let me know what you think, kudos and comments are squeed over. Also holler if you see any mistakes.

“I love this song!” She squealed, leaping from her chair and rushing to the radio with as much coordination as she could manage, nearly dropping her whiskey and Nuka Cola drink on the ground. Travis finished his stuttering introduction and then “The Wanderer” blared through the speakers of the radio on the counter. 

Hancock watched in amusement as Jo began to sway drunkenly to the song, hips weaving in a chaotic rhythm that drew his eyes to their softly rounded form. She had such a nice ass. He lounged on the couch, letting his head fall to the side as she danced her way back to him, enjoying the view way more than a “friend” should. 

Closing his eyes he thought about it, how he had called her a friend, and she had teased him, hinting at something more than friendship. They had been outside of a building they had just cleared, surrounded by piles of what she called loot and he called junk, and Jo had taken off her assault mask to feel the sun on her face. 

He blamed the sun for shining on her fiery red hair and warming her dirt covered skin, and for making her smile. That damned smile made him start rambling –something he never did– about his brother, Diamond City and about how he considered her a friend. Her smile had widened and her eyes got all big and shiny and he had panicked. He could understand his attraction to her, she was a shotgun-wielding, sexy force of nature with dirt under her nails and a partially shaved head, but how could she feel the same about him? 

He was scarred and ruined and a _ghoul_. He didn’t have a nose for fucks sake! Sure plenty of people wanted to fuck a ghoul, for the novelty of it or whatever, and that had never bothered him before, but being around Jo made things different. He didn’t feel alone anymore, like he wasn’t the only one trying to change things and make a difference in this radiated hell-hole they called home. He struggled to believe that she could care and the fact that she might scared the shit out of him. 

So he panicked and hid behind his smirk and laugh, and fed her some line about him not having a lot of friends which made their relationship important and that it was an honor. She had readily agreed and smiled back, but Hancock got the distinct impression she could see right through him and that freaked him out even more. And since then she had pulled back; she touched him only when she had to and her quiet, little compliments about his eyes or smile had all but ceased. She had even stopped calling him John and that probably hurt the most. 

He should have been happy, after all it was what he wanted, for her to focus her attentions elsewhere so he could pretend he didn’t have feelings for her and ignore that she might feel the same way. But here, watching her twirl around to the radio, everything slow and blurred from the Jet, he could easily forget his own hang ups and want her for what she was –a woman. And what a fucking woman she was. 

“Come dance with me.” She turned her glassy eyes to him and he chuckled, the sound roughened from the alcohol and drugs. He shook his head slowly, feeling like he was moving underwater in slow motion, the Jet did that to you, but it might have been a little bit of her too. She did that to him. 

“I don’t think so sister.” Jo carefully set down her drink and planted her fists on the hips he ogled every chance he got and glared down at his sprawled form. She had a stubborn streak and he knew from the set of her jaw meant that he was dancing, whether he wanted to or not. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make her work for it. 

Jo narrowed her eyes at the lanky figure of Hancock, slumped across the couch at the Red Rocket Truck Stop. She swayed on her bare feet, drunk and insanely frustrated with him. She was starting to think that the radiation had melted part of his brain, because she had been throwing herself at him for _weeks_ and he seemed either ignorant or immune to her advances. And then he had had the balls to call her his _friend_. Yes they were friends, but she knew he watched her ass when she walked and she sure as hell stared at his, but for some reason he avoided any mention of “them” like it was a legendary deathclaw. What in the hell did a 200 year old woman have to do to get a little action in the Commonwealth? 

Hancock just grinned up at her and took a drink out of his bottle, winking as he brought the bottle up to his lips. Cocky bastard. 

“Wanna bet?” She muttered mostly to herself as she marched forward and yanked the bottle out of his hands. 

“Hey!” He sputtered uselessly, making slow, halfhearted grabs for it as she set it aside and took his hands in hers and pulled him up. 

His skin had been an unexpected surprise for her. Looking at it you would expect it to be dry, chapped, and rough, but the first time she had grabbed his hand in the middle of a fire fight she had gasped, dangerously distracted by it. Yes, it was a mess, with the skin pulled so tight that it was ridged and uneven across his body, but it was also remarkably soft and hot to touch. He was always so warm, which was why he could sleep in just his damned coat, while she piled on blankets and sleeping bags. 

Taking those big, heated hands in hers she forced him up and he rose to his full height, towering over her short frame. He was silent for once, just watching her intently and Jo tried to ignore the flicker of heat she felt when he tucked her body up against his side, pressing them together tightly and draping one lean arm over her shoulders, effectively using her as his personal crutch. 

“Now that I’m up, what are you going to do with me?” He challenged, his black eyes impossible to read and dangerously alluring. She grinned up at him, ignoring the irrational flutter of nerves that chased through her. This had seemed like a good idea with liquor and Med-X coursing through her veins, but nerves dampened their rush and now she felt uncharacteristically shy. Still, they were here and she refused to back down so she forced another smile and said, 

“Dance with you.” 

Travis was talking nervously over the radio, introducing the next song, which was better suited for slow dancing and Jo bit her lip as she maneuvered herself in front of Hancock. Slowly she took his hand again and sucked in a quiet breath when she felt his other slide across her waist to settle low on her hip, curving around her back and making her skin tingle. His fingers flexed almost reflexively against her skin, grasping her firmly before relaxing as he frowned down at her. She averted her eyes and stared firmly at his chest, noting its steady rise and fall and admiring the exposed skin of his throat, but refusing to look at him again. His eyes were just too much to handle. Instead she placed her free hand on his shoulder and as the low crooning tune began they began to sway. 

She desperately tried not to sink into him. To not let his body heat warm her from the inside out and fool her into thinking this was more than just her forcing him to dance with her. But the part of her that missed the comfort of having someone to lean on crumbled quickly, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable and wishing this was real. Letting out a shaky breath she dropped her cheek onto his shoulder, breathing in his earthy scent and closing her eyes, deciding that it was okay to pretend, just this once. 

Hancock stared down at Jo’s red head, noting how the long pony tail was greasy and dirty, desperately trying to distract himself from her curves and the soft weight of her in his arms. He tilted his head back and stared up at the cobwebbed ceiling, thinking about his brother, super mutants, becoming a ghoul, _anything_ but her finally in his arms. Fuck it, it wasn’t working and there was no use pretending he didn’t want her here. 

Letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, he relaxed and shifted her slightly, pulling her more firmly against him and wrapping his arm about her back. It felt too damn good not to. The hand that held hers brought it up to his shoulder and rested it there, wrapping his long fingers around her hand and caressing it gently. All the while his brain pounded out a steady rhythm: _just friends, just friends, just friends_. He dropped his eyes to her head again and was startled to find her staring intently up at him. 

He scanned her faced and swallowed thickly, feeling nearly overwhelmed by the temptation to kiss her. Trying not to think about it, trying not to focus on her slightly parted lips only made it harder to look away. He was afraid to meet her eyes, because he didn’t know what he’d see and the chance that she didn’t want this was too much to bear. So he watched her lips instead, mesmerized when her tongue darted out to wet them. Fuck he wanted to kiss her. 

_Fucking kiss me already John._ Jo thought, hoping he would read her mind and do it. For some reason it was important that he move first, maybe because he had called her his friend with such resounding finality. She needed to know that he wanted this. That he wanted her. Maybe if he’d actually look into her eyes she’d know for sure and then she could kiss him first instead. But before that could happen, Travis burst through the speakers and Hancock flinched like he had been shot. 

He disentangled himself from her quickly and took several steps back, still refusing to meet her eyes. He staggered into the garage and grabbed his shotgun off the rack and his whiskey before heading towards the door. 

“I’m going to go keep watch.” 

The door slid shut behind him, echoing in the truck stop and leaving Jo alone, confused, and crashing hard. No amount of drugs or booze would pick her up back up tonight. She pulled on a jacket for warmth, inexplicably cold and peered out the window at Hancock’s hunched form. She could tell he was shooting up and when he was done, with the syringe cast aside, he slumped against a gas pump and raked a hand over his bare head, tricorn abandoned on the ground. 

She didn’t know what his problem was, if it was her or some baggage of his, but it was wearing on her and she didn’t know how many more times she could take being rejected by him. Jo let out a frustrated growl and changed her mind, grabbing some Jet from her stash in her kit. Flopping down onto her bed she inhaled the drug and let it fall to the side as she lay back, feeling everything fade out until even Hancock and all his bullshit disappeared. _This_ is what she needed right now, not him and his damn kiss. But she knew if he didn’t straighten his shit out soon she’d go back to traveling with Dogmeat, who wouldn’t be a smart ass and would warm her back and not twist her heart around in circles with his smirk and cocky wink. 

Hancock watched the light inside wink out and knew she was finally going to sleep. He felt ashamed of himself and that sourness combined bitterly with the whiskey and psycho burning through his veins. He was an idiot. Pulling away –no, running away– from her was one of the biggest mistakes he’d ever made and that meant a lot, especially after running from Diamond City, his brother, even his own life. And here he was, running _again_ and this time he was running from his own damn feelings. 

When he had moved away from her, he had looked into her eyes and that one quick glance proved to be his downfall. He had seen everything in her gaze; her want, her need, the hope and nerves. Everything he felt for her reciprocated and tangled into one giant messy ball of emotions shining through her eyes with enough power to make him panic all over again. Would he ever fucking quit running from her? From what she made him feel? He had no answers for himself, but knew without a doubt that she was an impatient woman, life had cheated her out her life once before and if he didn’t figure out what the hell he was doing around her, she would walk away and it would be too late.


End file.
